


A False Peace

by jamieherondxle



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamieherondxle/pseuds/jamieherondxle
Summary: A requested/prompted Clace fluff (and angst!) ficlet I wrote on my blog: Jace and Clary reconcile after a fight, and begin to question the consequences of their actions in the Mortal War.Prompt: 'I'm sorry I yelled at you.'





	A False Peace

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Clary whispered, bending down to nuzzle the side of Jace’s face. Her skin grazed a morning growth of blonde stubble coating his cheek.

Jace shook his head, his eyes still shut, mouth slightly pursed. Clary pushed herself up on the duvet, scanning his face, waiting. The silence stretched out.

Eventually, she murmured, “What, are you not accepting my apology?” She yanked up the strap of her pyjama vest that was creeping down her arm, careful to make the question sound in both parts sincere and facetious, but she was discomfited. Although he’d never admit it, and carefully guarded ever betraying it; Jace was easily hurt — but normally, easy to forgive. Arguments between them had bloomed frequently as rain clouds over the years, but Jace had always been quick to forgive, and quick to apologise. Perhaps she’d overstepped a line, this time.

His eyes squinted open, surveying her out of those long eyelashes, honey-tinted in the slanted morning sun. “I’ll accept your apology…when you do it properly.”

Clary straightened and surveyed the shape of his body under the covers. She let her incredulity leak into her tone as she repeated, “Properly?”

“Mmm.” He opened his eyes then, and tilted his head back on the pillow. A little smirk formed around his mouth. “I think, for that, I at least deserve a kiss.”

Relief flooded her but she scoffed nonetheless, and rolled her eyes. Bending down grudgingly, she pressed a tight, chaste peck to his mouth, but he caught her jaw and, his mouth coaxing, eventually she gave up — slackening under his touch. It was always this with them: absent touches, goodbye kisses turning, somehow, into fevered make-out sessions, panting into each other’s ears, fingers digging into skin, clothing disheveled, time skipping away from them. Distantly, she knew she should be embarrassed. They were adults now. They had to at least give the outwards impression of being sensible, of having control.

His fingers found their way through her hair, and began tracing patterns along her scalp, running to her temple, down over her cheek, skimming her jaw, and slipping along the delicate skin around her throat. She jerked away, laughing. “That tickles!”

He joined in laughing, and grabbed her again, this time tackling her down to the pillows, his arms caging her in an embrace.

She rested her head on his shoulder and they were quiet for a moment. His voice gentle, he murmured, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

She debated telling him that nothing was wrong. But Jace knew her — knew her better than she knew herself. Her hand absently fondled the cotton lacing on the edge of the duvet cover. “I’m just…scared.” She admitted. “Frustrated. Helpless. I feel like it’s happening all over again…All these years have passed. All this time, I’ve been thinking, nothing like that will ever happen again. The future will be different; it’ll be better. There will never be another Valentine. There couldn’t ever be…And now, look. We’re here, again. In the same place. What does it say,” She pulled back to look him in the face, “About us? About what we did, about what we thought we’d achieved?”

Jace’s brow furrowed, and reached over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean — it’s…” She shook her head, struggling to find the words. “It’s a false peace, isn’t it, that’s so easily broken — only five years later? People say we saved the Shadowhunter race, but did we? Those kids, the Blackthorns — Julian, by the angel — he’s just like us, trying to brave it alone. But they shouldn’t have to. They shouldn’t have to save anything. I just…It’s like watching history repeating another version of itself.”

Jace heaved in a breath, looking ahead. “You can’t think like this, Clary.”

“Why not?”

He raised his brows, considering what to say. “This has happened….not because of what we did — or didn’t do. Even if the mortal war hadn’t happened…this still probably would have fallen into place, sooner or later.”

Clary was unconvinced. “I don’t see how.”

He looked back at her. “Because the Clave was — always has been — a ticking time bomb: ripe for fanatics, extremists, for twisted ideologies. We may have got rid of Valentine, but we kept the other part of the equation, the root of it all; and he was always right. The Clave is rotten. It has allowed all this bitterness, this prejudice, this division — to flourish. And Clary,” He laughed, slightly, to himself, “We were sixteen, seventeen. We thought we were old then; thought we could do anything. But could we? Could we have done all that — dismantled a tyrant and revolutionised Shadowhunter society? For the better?” He laughed again, at the absurdity of it. “It’s not something that be solved by the swing of a seraph blade.”

Clary cocked an eyebrow at him. “Never thought I’d see the day when Jace Herondale was advocating for non-violence.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, laughing. “We don’t have anything to regret, but ultimately… it doesn’t matter, Clary. Wishing the past were different doesn’t do anything change it. All we can do… is deal with what’s in front of us. Help those who need help. Do everything that we can. And we will,” He whispered, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. “We’ll face it together, like always. We’ll find a way.”


End file.
